Deliver it to Papa Bear
by dust on the wind
Summary: "Long ago he had given up trying to estimate what he would find in any house merely by looking at the outside of it." My entry for the Short Story Speed-Writing Competition.


_I do not own any of the characters from the series Hogan's Heroes. However, I claim ownership of any original characters appearing in this story._

_For the Short-Story Speed-Writing Tournament. The first line comes from __**Murder for Money** by John D. MacDonald. _

* * *

Long ago he had given up trying to estimate what he would find in any house merely by looking at the outside of it.

If he was lucky, there would be food, or perhaps a few valuables which could be sold; either way, he and his family would eat. If he was unlucky, the ruins might still hold the dead bodies of the occupants.

If he was very unlucky, they might not yet be dead.

Today was apparently his unlucky day.

He had hit the streets just after midnight, knowing he would only have a certain amount of time between the end of the bombing and the arrival of the emergency brigades. His cover story was well rehearsed; if anyone challenged him, he told them he was searching for his sister. In fact, Raoul's sister was long dead, and his only living relatives were the two children she had left behind. It was for their sake he did this, after every successful Allied air raid.

The first house was unproductive, so badly damaged that nothing could be salvaged. At the second, he did better; a careful search through the rubble uncovered some jewellery, and even better, a wallet containing a few _Reichsmarks_.

The third house was different. It hadn't completely collapsed, always a dangerous situation. Surviving walls often fell down without warning, as Raoul had learned through a few near misses. So he entered cautiously, listening for any sounds which might warn of impending danger.

From what he could see, it had been a residence of strict middle-class respectability. The timber floor creaked uneasily beneath his feet, and he kept to the edges to be safe. This brought him close to the walls, where an occasional crackle, or the sound of something falling, sent his pulse racing.

And beyond that, he heard something else; a breathless, almost stifled sobbing.

His instinct said to ignore it; he couldn't afford to get involved. But something drew him towards the sound, which came from the back of the house.

Here the damage was much more visible. The end wall of the house had exploded inwards, scattering chunks of brick and plaster across the floor of what must have been the kitchen. So extreme was the state of disorder, it took him a couple of minutes to locate the woman, half-buried in the debris, her hair and skin so white with plaster dust, it was impossible to guess her age. Raoul crouched next to her, clearing away some of the detritus to try to assess her condition. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't leave her like this.

Her breathing was shallow, and under the dust her skin was already cold. She obviously didn't have much time.

Although she was pretty far gone, she seemed to sense his presence, and her eyes opened; blue eyes, probably very beautiful once, but clouded now.

"_Bitte_..."

He wasn't sure what she was asking, but he replied gently, "Keep still. It's alright."

She recognised the French accent. "_Französisch_?" One hand, free from the rubble which pinned down the rest of her body, groped vaguely towards his arm. "You will help...for your country...they must not find..."

Then she made an extra effort. "Here - I have it here." Her hand moved unsteadily towards her chest. "For Papa Bear. Hammelburg - Hofbrau, on Friday night. Please, take it. Don't let them find it. Deliver it to Papa Bear."

She fell silent, and after a while her breathing stopped.

Raoul, feeling like a tomb robber, carefully undid the first few buttons of her blouse. Something crackled under his fingers; an envelope, quite plain and unlabelled. He didn't know what was in it, but she had told him to take it, so he did.

He had been too long here; the sound of approaching sirens warned his time was up. He left the woman, and slipped away into the darkness.

It took some time to reach the abandoned hut outside town where he and his family had been encamped for several days. The children were waiting up for him. He still thought of them as children, although Michael was fifteen now, and Isabel almost fourteen, and both had long since left their childhood behind.

"Any luck?" asked Michael.

"Not much." Raoul didn't mention the woman at the third house, but the envelope in his inner pocket felt heavy, as if there were more in it than mere documents. He knew it was important; and the fact that she had entrusted it to a Frenchman indicated it had something to do with his own country. Resistance, perhaps, or the liberation they all knew would come, some day soon.

He wanted to do the right thing, but it was hard to know what was right in this situation. It had come to mind he could do something other than deliver the envelope to this mysterious "Papa Bear". The matter was obviously clandestine. How much would the Gestapo be prepared to concede to get hold of it? Perhaps they could be persuaded to arrange safe passage to Switzerland for two half-Jewish children.

It was a risk; more than that, it was the greatest sacrifice of principles he had ever contemplated. He had promised his sister Michael and Isabel would be cared for, but making a deal with the Gestapo felt like a step too far.

The matter lay heavy on his mind all day; and the following morning he told his family it was time to move on.

"Where to now?" asked Isabel with weary resignation.

"South, to Hammelburg. We go tonight." Raoul had postponed the decision, but either way, he would have to go to Hammelburg.

Moonlit nights, when the Allied bombers were most active, were dangerous for travelling. But the weather was on Raoul's side tonight, with a low, unbroken cover of clouds reducing the risk.

They kept to the back roads, close to the trees. Living rough for so long had toughened the children, and even Isabel was able to maintain an even, comfortable pace for several hours at a stretch. They could easily cover the miles from Weizenfeld to Hammelburg in a night. The hard part would be finding shelter.

Approaching dawn found them a few miles away from the town, on the road which led from Meilenheim. As they approached a small bridge, the sound of voices brought them to a stop. Raoul did not need to issue instructions; the children moved silently off the road without prompting.

An altercation was in progress; a patrol had accosted an elderly woman at the bridge. Raoul tensed as he recognised the uniforms. They were SS, with a Gestapo officer in charge. It was this individual who was hectoring the old lady, while she exhibited every sign of bewildered innocence.

It was no business of Raoul's, but it would delay their progress; and with the instinct born of long exposure to risk, he sensed his family's nervousness.

The Gestapo major's voice was growing shrill, and the old woman shrank away. But there was something odd about the whole scene. What was she doing on such an isolated road, so early in the morning? In fact, there was something strange about the woman herself. In spite of her bent back and air of fragile senescence, she appeared surprisingly sturdy and broad in the shoulders, and overtopped the major by a good few inches.

Neither Isabel nor Michael stopped to think about that. It was as if both of them, spontaneously and simultaneously, decided they were fed up with keeping their heads down and minding their own business. Michael gave a shout which momentarily distracted the soldiers, and as the major turned, Isabel stooped to pick up something from the ground, and flung it with dead accuracy. It hit him right between the eyes, and shattered into a shower of soft fragments. Raoul could only hope it was nothing more than a clod of earth; knowing Isabel, she might well have found some kind of animal droppings, which she would not have hesitated to use.

Raoul's reaction was swift, the old woman's even swifter. While he was hustling his family away, keeping to the line of the road, she hitched up her skirts and bolted in the same direction. They collided at the first bend, falling in a tangle, but the old woman, with an agile roll, regained her feet and hauled Michael upright.

"This way," she growled in a surprisingly low-pitched voice, dragging the boy further from the road. Raoul, with Isabel in tow, had no choice but to follow. In the heat of the moment, he didn't notice the woman had spoken in English, but he was aware she was neither as old nor as female as she appeared.

"Careful, now," their new friend hissed. "Down the embankment, and keep your heads low."

The four of them huddled below the bank, joined a few seconds later by a fifth person who slid down the bank with a thud.

"_Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé_?" he demanded in a fierce whisper.

"Ask me in a proper language, and I'll answer you." It was clear now that the old woman was in fact a man, and not so old, either.

"Who are these people, Newkirk?"

"No idea. All I know is, they saved my backside. Hochstetter was this close to running me in."

Raoul had tensed, when the new arrival spoke. "_Vous êtes français_?"

"_Oui_." The little Frenchman stared at him. "_Mais_..."

"No time for pleasantries now, LeBeau," Newkirk interrupted. "We have to move. Check if the coast is clear."

"Why must I be the one to make a target of himself?" Even as he spoke, LeBeau scrambled up the bank and peered over the top. "All clear," he reported. "Let's go."

Isabel's hand, cold with the night air, clutched at Raoul's, and Michael moved closer. None of them made any move to follow the two strangers.

"What's the hold-up?" muttered Newkirk. "Those SS boys will be along any minute. You don't want to be hanging round."

Raoul hesitated, but Michael spoke up. "We go our own way," he said, in a low, suspicious voice.

"Nobody said you couldn't," sighed the Englishman. "But if you think you know these woods better than we do..."

Raoul gripped Isabel's hand, discouraging her from flying to her brother's defence. "He didn't mean anything," he said quickly. "But it might be safer if we separate."

"So you can just walk into their arms? I don't think so." Newkirk turned to his friend. "LeBeau, give Papa Bear a call, tell him to set three extra places for breakfast."

_Papa Bear?_

Raoul's free hand went automatically to the pocket where the envelope was hidden. The woman had told him to deliver it to Papa Bear. But he still hadn't made up his mind. He needed to get his family out of this, until he came to a decision. He glanced at Michael, who met the look and gave a slow blink in reply. Isabel pressed close to Raoul's side, picking up the almost imperceptible signal.

Then, as LeBeau produced a walkie-talkie to make contact with Papa Bear, the family moved. Michael ducked under Newkirk's arm, momentarily throwing the man off balance. He grabbed Isabel's hand, and they fled. Raoul took off after them, veering to the right as soon as the children were out of sight. They would continue on the original line and wait for him at a safe distance, while he drew off the pursuit.

They had done it many times before. But it had never taken so long for Raoul to shake off anyone as it did this time. The two men might be foreigners, but they knew these woods, all right.

When he was able at last to double back and pick up his family's trail, first light was already showing, and by the time he caught up with them the sun was well up.

"We need to find shelter," he said, forestalling their anxious greetings.

"We passed an old barn, not far back," replied Michael. "It looked deserted." Raoul had seen it, too; it was probably structurally unsound. But they would have to make the best of it.

It was now Friday morning. The meeting with Papa Bear was supposed to take place tonight.

Isabel soon fell asleep, curled up like a kitten under her uncle's threadbare jacket. But Michael was still worked up.

"Animals!" he muttered. "Gestapo dogs!"

"Don't wake your sister," replied Raoul practically.

Michael suppressed his anger, and changed the subject. "Those other men - do you think they were..."

"Leave it, Michael," said Raoul sharply. "We don't get involved."

From the look on the boy's face, he wasn't satisfied. Michael was getting independent. It was likely to be a problem.

They had enough food to keep them for a couple of days, so there was no need to go out foraging. Isabel slept for hours, and even Michael dozed off after a while. Raoul, still undecided, couldn't rest. He wanted to do the right thing, and hand over the envelope to Papa Bear as he had been asked, yet to do so meant losing the chance to get his family to safety. But he knew the children would never forgive him if he made a deal with the Gestapo.

Late in the afternoon, still in two minds, he told them he would be going into Hammelburg that night.

"What for?" asked Michael. He was definitely growing up; he'd never queried his uncle's actions before.

"Just to make some enquiries," said Raoul curtly.

Michael was not satisfied, but he held his peace. Isabel just looked at them both, with wide, unchildlike eyes, and said nothing.

It took almost an hour for Raoul to walk to the town, but only a few minutes to find the Hofbrau, a cheerful, crowded place, filled with smoke and the sound of voices. Finding Papa Bear in there was not going to be easy.

He ordered a beer, paying for it with one of his precious hoard of banknotes. Then he found himself a table in the corner, and settled down to wait and watch.

There were a few men there who were alone: a middle-aged man flirting cheerfully with the waitress; a younger man with glasses, peering at a newspaper; a _Luftwaffe_ captain, who was gazing at the other customers with a bored expression.

Not the captain, anyway; and probably not the young man with the newspaper. But the older man was a possibility. He looked a bit like a bear - a very jolly one - which might account for the strange choice of code-name.

As Raoul debated with himself over his next move, the door opened, and another man came in. Instinctively, Raoul averted his face slightly, as did half the other people in the place. The new arrival was the Gestapo major he'd seen in the woods.

A quick glance around the tavern made it clear, Raoul had been on the wrong tack entirely. The bear-like man wasn't in the least disturbed. But the young man had vanished without delay behind his newspaper, and the _Luftwaffe_ captain turned his back on the new arrivals, and appeared to be scanning the room for the nearest escape route.

The major looked around with a suspicious glower. His eye passed across the newspaper hiding the young man's face, to fix on the back of the air force officer. He took a few steps forward; but before he got close, the door flew open again, and an SS man burst in.

"_Bitte, Major Hochstetter_," he barked, "we have found two persons in the street outside. They have no papers, and they look like beggars."

The major turned and strode out into the street. Raoul, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, followed. His apprehension had grounds; the two disreputable young people the SS patrol had picked up were Isabel and Michael. They had followed him to town.

He was furious with them, and terrified for them, both at once.

As he started forward, with no idea what he was going to do, a hand closed on his arm. "Don't do anything stupid," said a voice in his ear. "You'll only get yourself shot."

"But..." Raoul turned sharply, finding himself face-to-face with the _Luftwaffe_ captain. The young man with the newspaper was just behind him.

"Leave it to the experts," said the captain. His accent clearly marked him as American. "Carter..."

The younger man pulled his cap low over his eyes, and scuttled forward. "_Entschuldigung_," he began, bobbing his head up and down to gain Major Hochstetter's attention.

A short, animated discussion ensued, too far away for Raoul to hear. But whatever the man was saying, it certainly had an effect. Hochstetter stared at him, asked a couple of questions, then gestured to his men, and headed off down a side street at a run, leaving two men to guard the children.

Raoul's companion moved cautiously towards them, and Raoul followed. As they got closer, they heard the man Carter say, in a conversational tone, "I bet you guys do this sort of thing all the time. You must get real tired of it sometimes. I mean, there's no fun in following Gestapo orders, is there? It's not like active service, that must be real exciting sometimes."

The two SS soldiers exchanged glances, but before they could send him on his way, the American came up behind them, and drew his pistol. "Don't turn around," he said calmly.

Before they could react, Carter had also produced a gun. "Sorry, guys. Guess this stuff gets exciting sometimes, too."

Raoul grabbed his family in a fierce embrace. "Don't you ever do that again," he whispered. "Now..."

"Now we get the hell out of here," interrupted the American. "And this time, you don't make a run for it. If you'd stuck with my men last night, you'd have been a lot better off."

Raoul felt Michael's shoulders twitch, and Isabel twisted her head round to glare at the man, who must be Papa Bear. But Raoul tightened his grasp. Things had already got too dangerous here; the children had fallen under Gestapo notice. He was going to have to trust these men. But he still didn't mention the envelope.

"What did you tell them, Carter?" asked Papa Bear, leading his expanded party through the dark streets.

"Only that I'd seen a suspicious-looking old lady leave the bar, just before Hochstetter turned up." Carter was clearly American, as well. "Guess he thought it was Newkirk again."

"Well, that should keep him occupied." Papa Bear sighed. "We'll be early for our lift home, but it looks like Rosa isn't coming."

"I sure hope she's okay," murmured Carter. Raoul could have set him straight, but he didn't.

They soon found their way to the outskirts of Hammelburg, where they came to a stop near a crossroad. Carter had already started trying to make friends with the children; he was making headway with Isabel, but Michael was still standoffish.

Papa Bear drew Raoul aside. "Okay. Talk to me. Who are you, and why are you roughing it with those two kids?"

"My name is Raoul Berger," replied Raoul after a pause.

"French?"

"Yes. But the children...my sister married a German." Raoul hesitated, then added defiantly. "A German Jew. They both died. I promised to care for the children."

Papa Bear gave a low whistle. "Not so easy."

"No. We had to leave Hamburg, and we've been on the move ever since. I hoped...I thought if I could bring them to a safe place, then I could make my own way to France, and start doing my part to free my country. But until my family is safe..."

He broke off, remembering the half-formed plan he had made to buy the children's safety, and he felt a sudden heat of embarrassment. If Papa Bear found out about that...

The American didn't notice. He was silent for a minute.

"It's not what we usually do," he said abruptly. "But we may be able to help. We have a regular route for - well, getting people out of Germany. We've never tried sending children, but...I'll see what we can do," he finished up.

Raoul didn't reply. He didn't know what to say. This could be the opportunity he'd waited years for, but he would have to entrust his family to someone else. Papa Bear seemed to understand his silence. "Don't make a decision too soon," he added.

Before either of them could say more, Carter interrupted. "He's coming, Colonel," he called in a low voice.

A small van was approaching from the direction of town. Carter got to his feet, and waved it down. The driver got out, a small, thin-faced man, past military age.

"Colonel Hogan..." he began, then took in the size of the party waiting for him. "Why do you do this to me?" he grumbled. "It's going to be a tight fit in there."

"We'll have to manage, Oskar," said Hogan. "I hope none of you are scared of dogs," he added, with a glance at Isabel.

The ride, which took almost half an hour, was not comfortable.

As the van finally came to a stop, Hogan gestured for silence. The driver came round to the back of the van, and removed one of the dogs. Voices were heard, another dog was taken out, more voices. Then a new voice - English, and vaguely familiar to Raoul's ear. Hogan nodded to Carter, who moved to the door, and slipped out cautiously. He glanced around, then held out a hand to Isabel. She took it without hesitation, hopped out and vanished round the side of the van. Michael followed. Then Hogan pushed Raoul towards the door.

He found himself standing outside a small fenced enclosure, with dog kennels inside. The little Frenchman LeBeau was at the gate; he gestured vigorously, and Raoul slipped quickly inside. Then LeBeau bent and lifted one of the kennels, which tilted to reveal a hole in the earth, and a ladder.

No time now for second thoughts. Raoul descended. Carter was just behind him, and as they reached the bottom, the children were waiting, in the company of a tall black man in US military uniform.

Hogan joined them. "Carter, go get changed, then back to the barracks. You too, LeBeau. Kinch, we've got some new clients. Show them where they can sleep for tonight, we'll start getting them organised tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Colonel." Kinch glanced curiously at Raoul. "This way."

"One moment," said Raoul with sudden decision. "Isabel, Michael, go with him. I need to speak to..."

He turned towards Hogan. As his family went off in the care of these new friends, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. His way was clear at last.

"I have something for you, Papa Bear," he said.


End file.
